All Is One - A series of Things
by ZakuroU
Summary: A series of one-shots wherein the inside details of various FMA characters are spread out in words. Because even though we've seen all of the story, there are subjects to cover that the anime and manga left to us. There probably won't be any Yaoi (because I don't know how to write it), there will definitely be humour, Parental!RoyEd and maybe even a pineapple... LET'S GO!
1. Clicky Pens

**HI, EVERYONE! Thanks for choosing to read my story! NOW, before we begin, there are a couple of things I need to tell y'all.**

**1) As stated before, I can't write Yaoi. Or Yuri. So there won't be any, sorry. You can (as always) interpret relationships between characters any way you choose, so feel free to pretend (These topics will ****_all _****be included) Parental!RoyEd, Hughes and Roy Friendshipfluff, Ed and Al Brotherfluff, etc, etc, as Yaoi or whatever.**

**2) There will be both fics set in the original anime universe (Brotherhood fans don't run away, please!) and Brotherhood (original anime fans don't run away please!)**

**3) These stories will be set all over the place and in no order or relevance.**

**4) I WROTE THESE FOR MY AND YOUR ENTERTAINMENT. NO PROFIT WAS MADE. I haven't, don't, and never will own FMA. (If I did, Hughes would still be alive.)**

**5) I order you to enjoy these stories.**

**6) This chapter is set during Roy's and Hughes' childhood, and they are at school together.**

* * *

**Clicky Pens**

"...and today there'll be a special talk to you kids about Amestrian history, spoken by one of the most renowned voices in this countries politics, Mr H. Kean. Some of his greatest achievements include..."

Roy yawned, blinking slowly in a case of immense boredom. He glanced to his best friend, Maes, who occupied the desk directly to his left.

He too was also experiencing a case of soul-crushing, mind-numbing boredom, and had obviously decided to escape it by falling asleep face-down on his desk, snoring away and failing to notice the drool trailing down his chin onto the table. His glasses lay askew, poking him in the face.

It looked quite uncomfortable, but Maes didn't seem to care.

The teacher blathered on, her monotonous voice drilling into the skulls of about twenty students, making Roy think that maybe it would be a good idea to try creating a gun out of scrap paper, rulers and pencil shavings, load it up with eraser bullets and then shoot himself in the head with it.

"Psst. Maes," Roy hissed. "Maes. Psst. Hey, Maes. _Ma-a-es!"_

"Bwuh? Whazza...?" Maes' head snapped up, and he blinked blearily around the room. He seemed to realise where he was, and his eyes widened. "I'm up! I'm up! Wasn't asleep! Just resting!"

Half the class began to snicker and Roy struck a well-aimed kick at Maes' ankle. "Shh!"

The laughter raised in volume a little as Maes jumped and his glasses fell to the ground to a clatter. He looked blankly at them for a second before uttering a quiet, "Oh."

He looked about at all the giggling faces and grinned, bluntly stating, "I dropped 'em."

The class stifled their laughter as the teacher shot them all a withering glare. She sent mental daggers flying at Maes' head.

"You've got drool on your face!" hissed Roy, motioning at his lips.

"Whoops, heheh." Maes swiped at his face with his sleeve, still grinning, then picked up his glasses.

Always the centre of attention. Maes Hughes, the class clown. Roy sighed. _Are you ever _not_ doing anything stupid?_

"Hughes, Mustang! Quiet!" the teacher snapped.

"Yes, miss," Roy and Maes said in unison, and the giggles died down. She continued with her lecture and Maes whispered to Roy, "Ugly says what?"

Roy gave a snort of amusement and placed his chin on his palm, whispering, "Are you bored?"

"No, of course not," came the quiet reply. "This is the most interesting talk I've ever heard in my whole twelve years of living. It's so intriguing, so enlightening, so amazing-"

"What's she talking about, then?"

"No idea."

"Great subject."

"I know. I mean-"

"You two! Silence!"

"Yes, miss."

The guest speaker was introduced, and the pair took part in the exercise of lethargic applause whilst he walked to the front.

He began speaking, and Maes let out a pathetic groan. This man's voice was even more monotonous and droning than the teacher's.

Roy was almost convinced to put into action his plans for the stationary-suicide gun.

Maes sighed and picked up his pen, clicking the nib down. He was about to set it to a piece of scrap paper and begin scribbling up an astoundingly artistic and not particularly flattering depiction of the guest speaker in stick-figure form, when a terrible idea struck him in the form of a metaphorical light bulb and comedic doorbell sound effect.

Roy took one look at the devious grin plastered in his best friend's face and flinched. Maes' glasses shone threateningly and a gleeful spark lit his yellow eyes.

That was not a good sign.

"What're you planning?" Roy muttered under his breath.

_Click._

Roy buried his face in his palm, sighing. Now that this weapon of mass annoyance had fallen into Maes' irresponsible hands, there was no telling _what_ kind of trouble Roy would be pulled into.

_Clickity-click._

"...this is therefore an important issue in the current state of political unrest..."

_Clickity-clickity-click._

"...and so it is my belief that young people should be educated in such affairs..."

_Clickity-clickity-clickity-click._

"...this way the next generation of Amestris will always know how to handle these things..."

_Clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-click._

"...and consequently..."

_Clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-click _. Maes had started to laugh, and was desperately trying to remain as silent as he could, apart from the incessant clicking.

"...consequently..."

_Clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-click ity-click._

"...consequently..." The guest seemed to be getting distracted by the never-ending clicks.

_Clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-click ity-clickity-click._

"...consequently..."

_Clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity-click ity-clickity-clicki-_

"WILL WHOEVER'S MAKING THAT CLICKING NOISE PLEASE STOP!" roared the teacher, startling the entire class and the guest as well.

Maes let his pen fall to the desk with a clatter and attempted to smother the laughter that was turning his face an alarming shade of red.

Roy let out a quiet snicker before stamping on his own foot to keep from bursting out laughing.

Right now, anything would entertain him.

And always, even in the deepest recesses of boredom, Maes would always be there with some ludicrous plan for excitement and mischief.

And always, it would remain so.

Through depressing school classes, tedious studies of alchemy, the darkest depths of war and into mountains of paperwork, Maes was the light that pierced the gloom.

Roy grinned and Maes grinned back, his face lit with ecstatic joy.

"You...just..." Roy whispered, his cheeks red with laughter.

"I just what?"

"HUGHES AND MUSTANG! DE-TEN-TION!"

Always getting him in trouble.

**Inspired by an event in my life during a very boring class. (Guess who was clicking the pen, hahaha!)**


	2. Sleep Deprivation

**Sleep Deprivation**

Seven days, four hours and fifty-seven minutes.

That's how long he'd been researching this stuff, without a break. He'd stopped to eat and drink a couple of times, and went to the bathroom to freshen up, but aside from that, he hadn't moved from this table in seven days, four hours and fifty-seven minutes.

Not that he'd kept track of the time.

Edward Elric the Fullmetal Alchemist had been sitting at this table for the past week, and had not left the library building since before even that.

But something was coming to change that.

That something came in the form of one Colonel Roy Mustang, and he was not happy.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that he had completed twelve full stacks of paperwork during an all-nighter the day before, was in the middle solving a multi-murder case, and was now running through the empty streets of the city in the middle of a rainstorm without a car in order to hunt down an overdue report that should have been handed in weeks ago.

Or perhaps it was because I just referred to him as 'something'.

Who knows?

Whatever the case, he was _so _not in the mood for this.

_Fullmetal, _he thought, trudging up the steps to the library. _You could at least hand in your report before you decide you want to vanish off the face of the earth._

Fully drenched, he pushed open the door and strode right up to the head librarian, bluntly stating his business.

"I'm looking for a young State Alchemist, blonde hair, yellow eyes, wears a red cape and black underneath. About this height." He held up his arm at waist level. "Seen him?"

The librarian, a middle-aged man with brown hair wearing a turtleneck shirt and jeans, nodded instantly, saying, "Indeed. He's here. Has been for about a week. Hardly left. Hardly slept either, according to our night staff. It's quite intriguing, actually, that he still retains the abilities to read and write. Studies show that the body—"

"That's nice. Where is he?"

The librarian looked a little disgruntled about having his ramblings cut short, but nonetheless pointed towards the back of the library. "Over there, in the alchemical history section."

Mustang nodded in thanks then stalked off to the back of the large building, irritation and stress giving him a stiff, clipped stride.

He rounded the corner and stopped dead.

Edward Elric was sitting at a table, dwarfed by the mountainous stacks of books piled about him and what seemed to be an endless supply of paper sheets saturated in complex formulas and transmutation circles, barely an inch of white left on the things.

The boy stared with glassy eyes at the book in his hands, muttering feverishly under his breath and occasionally picking up one of about twenty pencils scattered all over the place and scrawling on whatever material he could reach.

His cloak was slung messily over the side of the chair he was sitting on and his hair fell sloppily about his face as if he hadn't bothered to keep up the maintenance of his braid.

But the scariest thing was his eyes.

They had an empty, haunted appearance about them, and Mustang could have sworn the gold in them had tarnished.

There was no light there.

There were dark rings beneath them, so solid and obvious it was as if they had always been a part of his natural complexion.

Or he was a panda.

One of the two.

The boy was like a ghost.

Roy went over, slightly spooked by the hollow appearance of the normally sparky, loud, hot-tempered, somewhat obnoxious boy.

"Fullmetal," he said. "Fullmetal."

No response, apart from, "…phosphorous…80%...any metal with less than 0.2% carbon…"

He tried again. "Fullmetal!"

"…the symbol of eternity…the ouroboros…"

Roy was beginning to get annoyed. "Pipsqueak!"

"…placed inside the…I'm not short… Who're you calling short? …outer rim of the circle…"

Roy narrowed his eyes. He pulled the book away sharply and the young alchemist blinked twice, slowly as if awakening from a trance. "Wha…?"

"Fullmetal, do you know you've been here for over a week? And you haven't slept either, according to night staff. And you still haven't handed in your report. I need it now. The general wants to know what everyone's take on the events—"

The boy blinked again, yawning loudly. "Who…are you?"

Then the colonel blinked. "Mustang. Colonel Roy Mustang. Your superior officer."

"Huh…" Edward nodded. "A colonel."

"Yes."

"Whazzat?"

"I think you should go home and rest," Roy advised.

"I don' have a home… We burned it down…ages ago…" Edward pulled out his pocket watch, pointing. "See? That'zo I don' forget what I did…"

Roy sighed. "Do you have anyone who can pick you up?"

Edward nodded again. "My bro'er…Al…fonze. I hafta fix him…so I hafta do research… You see, if I adjust this formula…and put this here…and rotate this…"

Edward picked up his pencil again, dashing out a formula and drawing another above it.

Roy snatched the paper from his hands, scanning it over quickly. His eyes narrowed, then widened, then his expression became abruptly confused, then annoyed.

"Fullmetal," he stated irritably, waving the sheet in Edward's face. "This is a transmutation circle to speed up the fermentation of milk to appoint so extreme it will explode…"

He glanced at the boy, who gave a strangled laugh, saying, "Disgusting cow-juice'll go splodey!"

"…then be transmuted into pasta," Roy finished.

Edward's creepy smile evaporated as he muttered, "Al liked pasta…"

"Here." Roy grabbed Edward's wrist and pulled him up.

The boy stumbled against him, letting out a whimper of hurt as a tremendous thumping pain started up behind his eyes. "Ooh… Dizzy…"

"A-are you okay?"

"…I feel sick…"

"Fullmetal, if you throw up, I swear I'll—"

"…I'm _tired…_ Daddy, I don't wanna walk…"

"Oh, be quiet, Fullmetal. I'm not your father and you're not three years old."

"Ugh…" Edward's half-lidded eyes fell closed. "I don' feel so good… I'm dizzy."

Roy sighed, guiding Edward to the back of the library, where a public phone hung up on the wall. Roy glared angrily at the '500 cens for two minutes' sign.

He rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a coin, shoving it roughly into the machine and dialling the number of the hotel Alphonse was at. _The things I do for you, Fullmetal. Wasting a whole good 500 cens. I could buy a coffee with that._

"Hello, East City hotel. Would you like to book a room or can I connect you to someone?"

"I need Alphonse Elric. Do you know which room he's staying in?"

"Please hold on." There was silence for a few seconds. "Okay, I'm putting you through now."

"…"

"Hello? Who is it? Brother?"

"Sorry to disappoint. It's Colonel Mustang."

"Ah! Colonel! Good evening! Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes. Your brother's here at the library and you'll need to come get him," Roy explained, frowning down at Edward, who was leaning quite heavily against him with his eyes closed. His face was set in a cringe, as if he was trying to cling onto his balance.

"Why? Can't he come here himself?"

"No, I don't think so," Roy told the boy. He rolled his eyes as Edward's hand grabbed for the inside of his sleeve, looking for some kind of support. "He's basically exhausted himself to the point that he can't think straight about anything about except for his study. I would say he's at a dead end because he's subconsciously created a formula that will cause milk to explode then turn into pasta. He can't walk either. He can barely stand for light-headedness and I'm certainly not carrying him. It's raining and I didn't bring a car."

Alphonse's sigh crackled through the line. "Okay. I'll come get him."

Roy hung up.

Edward shook his head, moaning, "Don' tell Al… He shouldn't hafta worry 'bout me…"

Roy sighed again. "So, keeping yourself healthy isn't your forte, is it, Fullmetal?"

"Mmnghh…" Edward slipped from Roy's side, tripping a few steps forward. "Al's my younger brother… _I _hafta protect _him_… But I didn't, and now I hafta…" He trailed off into an inhuman yawn. "I hafta fix that."

Roy lunged forward, snatching at Edward's shoulder as the boy collapsed, not even trying to break his own fall.

The colonel gently lowered the boy to the carpeted floor by his shoulders so he lay on his stomach with his greasy hair lying askew of his braid and his limbs, both automail and flesh, splayed.

"For a teenage prodigy, you're astoundingly _stupid, _do you know that?" Roy grumbled.

Edward didn't stir, on account of the young alchemist being fully unconscious and physically incapable of anything apart from sleep.

Out like a light.

"Ah, Fullmetal," Roy said, rolling the boy onto his back. "What are you trying to do, kill yourself? You won't get anywhere like this. Hell, I'd be surprised if you could even remember half of what you wrote. Or even read it, with that atrocious handwriting. I can't imagine how it must look with your body acting the same way as it would if you were drunk. But…"

He shrugged. "…I have to admire your foolhardy determination."

Edward's brow creased. "Mn…"

"Dreaming, huh? There's a surprise… Well, I suppose they'll come no matter how tired you are, no matter what you do."

Edward moved his head slightly, and a quiet whimper escaped him. He mumbled something inaudible, then yelped and shook his head fitfully.

"A nightmare, then?" Roy cocked his head gently and peered down at the boy with something in his eyes that could have perhaps been called sympathy, had the man not masked himself years ago so as to hide emotions that his face might have betrayed.

"Trust me, Fullmetal," he said, sighing lightly. "Staying awake for longer only makes it worse."

Edward bared his teeth slightly, a look of terror invading his sleeping face.

"And there isn't any way you can stop them. The easiest thing to do is just wait it out," Roy murmured. "Even if your pain, your terror, your grief and your guilt all manifest in your slumber, the only thing to do is endure it."

Edward cried out again, and his hands jerked and twitched.

"Even if you're forced to relive your darkest memory, to watch it happen again and again and again, wishing there was something you could have done to prevent it, something you could have changed... Wishing you hadn't burnt that village... Wishing you hadn't pulled that trigger..."

Edward let out a single, hacking sob, and Mustang felt a strange compulsion to reach out to him. He ignored it.

"And then," he said. "You might be forced to look back again at the most horrific sight in your past, and your mind enhances it, enlarges it, makes it even more terrible than the day you saw it first."

Edward whimpered again, and his breath came short and fast. "No..." he mumbled. "Not that..."

He gave a quick gasp, and his face became a mask of sheer panic; he was terrified.

"And for people like us..." he clenched his jaw and twitched his head, flicking the hair from his eyes. "It's not pretty."

"Nngh... Al... Please don't leave me..." Edward mumbled, his voice quiet and cracking. "Ow...hurts... Al... Come back... I'm scared...scared...hurts...Al... I'm scared..."

Roy was definitely sure he felt something stir within him at this, some buried feeling he thought he'd killed years ago. "Take it from me, Fullmetal. I've had personal experience in this department."

That strange impulse came yet again, and this time Roy listened to it. He reached out and gently brushed the boy's bangs off his face. "Don't worry, though. None of it's real. It's all in your past now and there's nothing to be done about it."

Edward let out another series of violent, shaky sobs, his eyes darting about feverishly under his eyelids. "Please no...no...not Al...not mom...it hurts...hurts so bad...I want him back...hurts...scared...so scared... I'm all alone..."

Roy's eyes closed at this. He was surprised and angry at the same time.

This boy, this short, hot-tempered, rude, irritating, noisy boy, had managed to make him feel things he'd worked for years to bury.

Pity; a soldier could not take pity on the enemy, lest they become weak.

Compassion; a soldier couldn't afford to have this in case it expanded to reach wounded members of the opposition as well.

Worry; a soldier could have no concerns about the duties he was to perform. He need only do them, or risk losing the battle. He needed to care only for himself and the battle.

Empathy; a soldier needed to be merciless, to fight, kill and win without remorse.

Emotions clouded your judgement and Roy knew that well. That's why he couldn't feel this kind of affection to anyone, let alone another soldier.

This was why he never planned to have kids; because they made you soft. And besides, this boy wasn't even a blood relation, so it didn't make sense!

And yet... Roy could not deny the instincts that told him this boy needed someone to help him. A father-figure.

And the Colonel couldn't believe it, but his own intuition, which he had come to trust so very much over the past years, was telling him that he could be that man!

So, finally working up the courage to overrule the logical side of his brain, he knelt down on the ground and shuffled closer to Edward, and brought the boy's head onto his knees.

Part of the man's mind was screaming out, 'What the hell is wrong with you? This boy doesn't need you as a father! And you have no time for him! You're a soldier!'

But the other half was shouting back just as loud, 'This boy needs your help! He's scared and alone and there's no-one else here for him! He needs someone he can count on and someone who can keep him from trouble!'

There was also a tiny segment of him that was going, 'Hahahahaha! Look at you, Mr Big-shot Flame Alchemist! You're on your knees to help out the Fullmetal pipsqueak! HA! LOL!'

Roy wasn't quite sure what the parental half of him wanted him to do, but his hands seemed to know.

He rubbed gently at Edward's shoulder, closing his eyes again and feeling incredibly awkward.

Kids were Maes' thing, not his.

"I'm scared!" Edward brought his knees up to his chest and curled into a tight ball, pressing his face against Roy's lap. "I'm...scared..."

Edward cringed, then all his facial expression became abruptly blank. He looked almost peaceful.

"Y'know, Fullmetal, there are times when I really, truly hate you," Roy sighed.

"...dad..." Edward mumbled.

Roy huffed. "You can call me that if you want, but I'm gonna pretend I can't hear you."

The man could have sworn he saw a smirk on Edward's face before the teen rolled onto his side and curled his head deeper into Roy's military uniform.

Roy himself sighed, went a deep shade of beet red, and looked at the ceiling hoping that no-one he knew would walk to the back of the library and catch him in this position.

It was strange. He wanted Edward to get off his legs, but he also wanted him to stay. His legs itched with the need to push the boy away, but there was something about him that was...well, it was a lot of things.

Warm, gentle, quiet, small, scared, peaceful, fragile, soft, weak, lonely and young.

But most of all, Edward was a child, and in his sleep, he was vulnerable.

And as long as the boy remained there, Roy would sit there too, reluctant to move him away. He stayed there, in the loose yet inescapable grip of the child, wondering what it was that rooted him so firmly to this spot.

He scratched the back of his head, glancing about and wondering what to do.

It was at that moment he caught sight of something small, circular, silver and definitely a bad sign sitting on the shelf just across from him.

At first he didn't have a clue what it was.

Then he thought; 'Gun!' and tensed. He relaxed a little when he realized the diameter of the thing was far too wide for a gun.

The thing was slightly familiar...something he'd seen often...something he didn't like...something... Something... _What is that?_

Then, a sense of dread spread through his frame as the realisation dawned on him.

Maes Hughes.

Maes Hughes and his object of blackmail, torture and source of much suffering for many military officials, his damn camera.

Roy uttered a quiet exclamation of protest, but it was too late; the damage had already been dealt.

There was a bright flash which left a discoloured spot in Roy's field of vision, and he blinked a couple of times, gaping like a fish.

Then he came to his senses. "Maes! You-you-you-what are you-why did-that-GET OVER HERE!"

"Yo!" Maes happily obliged, all but flouncing over in an extravagant manner and waving the freshly printed photograph in the air. "Well, _hello there_, Roy! Ed! How're you doin'?"

Roy glowered. "Hand it over, Maes. Or I burn you."

Maes grinned stupidly, crouched down before his friend and cocked his head. "Hand what over? All I have are these photos of my darling Elysia!"

Roy was not impressed. "That photo you just took. Give it here. _Now_."

"Hmm...no," Maes decided, after about three nanoseconds of thought.

"What are you even doing here?" Roy hissed. He'd have to launch a retrieval mission for the photo afterwards.

"Oh, I came with Alphonse! He can't drive, obviously, and he was concerned that carrying his brother home through the rain wouldn't do any wonders for his current condition," Maes explained chirpily. "He's probably right, y'know. How'd you get here?"

"I walked, Maes," Roy stated bluntly. "Through the rain."

Unsurprisingly, Edward slept on, blissfully unaware of what was going on in the world around him. He shifted his legs a little, then pulled in closer to Roy.

Maes practically swooped on this and he squealed in delight, crooning "Aww, Roy look! You two...you're _so_ cute like that!"

He settled himself on the floor next to the two State Alchemists, tucking a couple of photos into his pocket. "So," he said. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Where's Alphonse?"

"Over there somewhere," Maes responded, waving a hand in the vague direction of everywhere. He seemed to be thinking for a second before twitching with an exclamation of realisation, as if some astounding revelation had just walked up and smacked him square in the face.

"Hey, Roy! I haven't shown you my new photos of Elysia yet, have I?"

Roy sighed. "Maes, we really don't have time for this right now... If Alphonse is waiting for us then we'd best get a move on."

"Pfft! There's always time for this!" Maes said, whipping out a stack of photos about six inches thick.

"Okay. There definitely isn't time for this," Roy decided, shying away from the explosion of over-excitement he knew his friend was about to unleash.

Maes seemed to be struggling to stifle the urge to show Mustang every one of the photos and instead gave a deflated sigh and said, "Okay, fine. Only ten of them. But you're missing out!"

He shuffled closer to Roy, showing him the first picture off the top of the pile. "Here she is making pancakes with Gracia! Look how cute she is in that little apron! Adorable, isn't she? See, she's got a tiny smudge of flour on her face there, isn't that cute?!"

Roy listened in mute boredom as his friend blabbered on for three minutes straight about each individual picture, nodding where appropriate and pretending like he cared.

By the time Maes had finished, half an hour had passed and Roy was surprised Alphonse hadn't found them yet.

"Oh! Wait! There's one more!" Maes exclaimed.

"No more, Maes!" Mustang ordered.

"Oh, but you'll love this one! And I'm gonna show Ed too, when he wakes up!"

Roy rolled his eyes and gave in. "Fine, fine, just make it quick."

Maes whipped out another photograph and instead of holding it himself and pointing out all the little details, he handed it to Roy.

"You can keep this one," Maes told him. "Although, it's up to you whether or not you burn it or keep it. Personally, I'd prefer you went with the latter, but you know, it's your choice and all..."

Roy had tuned out of his best friends ramblings, staring at the picture in his hand.

It was one Maes had just taken, featuring the Colonel himself sitting on the floor, with Edward's head on his lap. Roy could clearly see his hand on Edward's shoulder, and the tenderness in that slight gesture was imminent on every inch of the man's face.

There was a slight smile on his lips, a genuine one, not the trademark smirk he wore for almost every occasion. Something that was rarely seen on Roy's face.

The affection he felt towards the sleeping boy could easily be derived from the look in his eyes, those eyes that were normally so cold and differential.

They had a spark of warmth in them now, and it changed Roy's façade completely.

A thought struck him. "Maes?"

"...and it's a good way to preserve memo-yes?"

"When did you take this?" Roy distinctly remembered he'd been facing the camera when Hughes had taken the photo.

"Oh. Well." Maes gave a slightly nervous laugh. "I took a few photos...with the flash off...when you weren't looking..."

Roy shook his head exasperatedly. "Y'know, you'd make a brilliant covert operations agent if you weren't so loud."

"I know," Maes said simply.

Roy looked down at the photograph in his hands, mentally comparing it to any other picture that had been taken of him.

His main features in almost every one were the cold, dark eyes, stiff figure and apathetic expression.

But here...this photo was completely different.

All because of Edward's presence.

"They change you, y'know that Roy?" Maes murmured. "You don't always see it, but every person changes a little when they become a parent."

Roy gave a slight, almost indistinguishable, nod.

"'Specially people like you. The serious type." Maes smirked. "Even they go a little soft around their kids."

"But... But he's not my kid," Roy responded softly, stroking the side of Edward's face again.

"Are you sure?" Maes asked. "Really, truly sure? Just because you don't share blood doesn't mean he's not your kid."

"Yeah, but... I'll never be the kind of father he deserves," Roy said. "There are so many things about me..."

"You simply doing this proves that you already are," Hughes told him, cutting his friend off with a wave of his hand.

Edward sighed in his sleep and moved his head closer to Roy's stomach.

"And it's not hard to see he doesn't care."

"That's just because of the sleep deprivation," Roy reasoned. "He doesn't even know it's me."

"The subconscious brain is a wonderful thing, Roy. Keep that in mind." Maes grinned. "He doesn't know that he really does know it's you."

"Now you're just confusing me."

_Clank, clank, clank, clank..._

"Oh!" Maes exclaimed, straightening up. "I totally forgot Al was even here! You'd better make yourself scarce, then! I'll see you soon, Roy!"

"Yeah," Roy responded, gently moving Edward's head onto the floor. "See you."

He looked up at Hughes' grinning face. _You know, you're a lot smarter than me sometimes... It's depressing, really._

* * *

"Mr Hughes? Brother?" Alphonse poked his head around the corner just in time to see Roy walk off, tucking a photograph into his pocket.

"Alphonse," he said. "make sure your brother turns in his report within the next week."

"Yes, sir," Alphonse replied, waving to him.

Maes motioned Alphonse over to himself and Edward, who was still out cold on the floor. "Over here, Al."

Alphonse clanked over, his brother's cloak hanging off his metallic shoulder. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Maes assured the younger Elric. "Just sleeping, he's overworked himself."

"Well, there's a surprise," Alphonse said sarcastically, kneeling down before his brother. "No wonder he wouldn't let me come. He probably thought I would have made him stop and rest."

Maes glanced up. "Wouldn't you?"

Alphonse paused. "Yeah, I suppose I would have."

He grabbed Edward and pulled him onto his back, piggy-backing him to the front door. "Don't take a picture, Mr Hughes. Big brother would kill me if he knew I was doing this."

Maes nodded, a smile spread across his face. "Promise. I won't."

The three left the library, leaving a flustered head librarian just about to faint in shock a the bombsite that used to be the alchemical history section.

* * *

The next morning, Edward awoke to find himself back in the hotel room he shared with Alphonse.

Terribly disorientated, he sat up looked around and blinked several times. "What the...?"

He stood up, stumbled light-headedly across to the kitchen table, where a small sheet of notepaper sat, folded in Alphonse's trademark neatness.

It read;

_Brother,_

_If you wake up before I arrive back, I've gone out to the markets to buy you some food._

_Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, try and finish your report for Colonel Mustang if you can, and I will lecture you when I see you again._

_I'll be back soon._

_-Al_

Edward set the note back down and rubbed his eyes. He glanced back at it and noticed more words on the back. He raised an eyebrow and picked it up again.

_Hey, Ed!_

_Chck ur bck pcket, I no u r gonna luv wat u find!_

_-M. H._ ;D

_What kind of an idiot writes that way? Hughes is a dip if he thinks it'll ever catch on._ Edward frowned and reached into his pocket, feeling a small slip of paper brush his fingertips.

He grabbed it and pulled it out, wondering what it was.

The glossy texture indicated it was a photograph. He took it, and upon seeing it he almost choked on his own spit.

It was a photograph of himself, curled on the floor, his head resting on Roy Mustang's knees.

Mustang was watching him with warm eyes, smiling ever so slightly.

Scrawled across the bottom were the words;

_Photo courtesy of Maes Hughes, who will probably be in a lot of trouble when Roy finds out he gave you this. P. T. O._

Edward flipped it over, his face red with both embarrassment and fury.

_Seriously. Please don't kill me. Or transmute me. Or burn me. All I'm gonna say is that...YOU'RE SO CUTE WHEN YOU'RE SLEEPING! Also, Roy is very embarrassed of this picture, and you probably will be too. I have some spares, so expect some black in your mail... Just kidding. Since I'm so nice, I won't show anyone else. Except Elysia. And Gracia. And Lieutenant Hawkeye. But no-one else, I swear..._

Edward hissed his displeasure, trying to think of anywhere he could hide this picture, and in what horrible way he would disfigure Maes when he got his hands on the man.

Edward considered cutting the photo into many tiny pieces.

He considered burning it.

He considered soaking it.

He considered soaking it in Maes Hughes' blood.

Transmuting it.

Scribbling on it.

Using it in origami.

He slipped it back into his pocket, his cheeks still hot with shame. _I suppose...I could hang on to it for a little longer... I mean, it's not like I_ love _the guy! It's more like...I trust him, weirdly enough._

"Even though," Edward muttered, breaking into a yawn. "He is a total bastard and a jerkface and a slut and an idiot and I hate him and he deserves to die a slow and painful death in a big bloody hole full of mud and crap."

He turned and made his way back to bed. As much as he wanted to, Edward just didn't think he could stay awake for much longer.

But one niggling thought chewed at the back of his head; why would Roy do that?

There had to be some logical explanation for this bizarre phenomenon, some kind of scientific theory as to why Roy would act that way...

But try as he might, Edward couldn't find a single reason, not one little fact he could use. _Why? Why would you do that, Mustang? Is there something you haven't told me? Do you think of me in some other way than just a subordinate? What do I mean to you? Am I more to you that I realised? Do you think of me like...family?_

Edward paused, the last thought having jarred his brain to a screeching, jerking halt. _Family? Like family? Me and Mustang...family?_

The thought was so obscure, so alien, it seemed as if Edward should have been forbidden from thinking it, it was just that far-fetched.

But in a way, a strange, longing way, he wanted it to be true. He would never admit to it, but there was some small part of his mind, a little bit at the back that didn't quite have a voice, that wanted Roy to be there for small part, that needed a person like him...

Just to be there and watch, and point him in the right direction when he was lost. Just to be near him when he was alone, just _exist_, when there wasn't anything.

Just to be there.

He slipped back under the covers and pulled them up to his neck, cursing quietly to himself about the stupid things sleep deprivation made you do.

**Well, well, well! I have finally written a short (-ish) story and not failed! Alright now, I thought that was pretty good. The only downside to being me is that I can't review my own stories. And if I weren't me (which I fortunately am, because I quite like myself), and I was in actuality **_**you, **_**I would **_**totally **_**review. So, do me a solid and review for me! Thanks for reading, awesome reader people!**

**That was WAY longer than I thought it'd be.**


	3. Just a Fool

**Well, this is a little different from what I'd normally do. Hm. Well, anyways, I hope it reaches the awesome standard Hughes has set for...himself... Um...lost my train of thought... (Not Hughes/Roy. EVER. Not even if you buy glasses, squint, rotate your computer, iPod, phone, nintendo or whatever, tilt your head or put it through a laboratory test. I don't write Hughes/Roy. Don't even **_**like **_**it. RoyEd I can sorta put up with, but Hughes/Roy is my least favourite pairing EVER. Now I'm going to shut up before I offend Hughes/Roy lovers.)**

* * *

_"Get a wife!"_

_"No! I swear, dammit, one more time and it's the gloves...!"_

_"Aw, lighten up! I'm just teasin' ya, buddy!"_

I wish he would still tease me.

"I'm getting annoyed now!"

_"And then?"_

_"Can it, four-eyes!"_

_"And then...?"_

_"Pipe down!"_

_"And then...?!"_

_"Yep, I'm mad!"_

I wish I could still get mad at him.

_"I'm going to flame you!"_

_"Has that ever stopped me before?"_

_"No, but it might work one day!"_

I wish I could still try to figure out how to shut him up.

_Ri-riing! Ri-riing!_

_"Lieutenant Roy Mustang speaking."_

_"Hey there! Do you know how pretty Gracia is?!"_

_"...I'm hanging up now."_

I even wish he'd still annoy me with the endless amount of phone calls he always made.

_"Colonel Roy Mustang speaking."_

_"Quick! Quick! There's been another attack by Scar! We need your men down here ASAP!"_

_"What?! How many?!"_

_"Gotcha!"_

_"...I'm going to kill you."_

Even the prank calls.

But unfortunately, wishing doesn't change anything; never has, never will. _Wishing won't bring him back._

Damn it, I thought he was stronger than that. I thought he'd be safe on his own. I thought he wouldn't need an eye on him at all times.

Apparently not.

I hate it all. Everything to do with it.

I hate that he's gone, I hate that people are grieving, I hate it that it had to be him, I hate it that I could have stopped it, I hate that it hurts.

It hurts so much.

I hate how everyone here is gathered in this graveyard, mourning him. He didn't deserve to die. In fact, out of all of us, he deserved to die the _least_. He wouldn't want for people to be here like this, crying, sad, grief-stricken.

If he had it his way, we'd all be partying.

I hate how I could have prevented this, if I'd just been there... If I'd just seen it coming... If I hadn't told him that... If I hadn't been there... If I hadn't... I don't know, there must have been something I could have done!

I hate how much he's missing; all the things he can't do for his family anymore. His daughter's birthdays, for instance.

He loved throwing her parties. He'll miss even her sixteenth, her eighteenth, her twenty-first. Now he'll never be able to see her grow up, get married, have kids of her own, any of that. He would have been such a doting grandparent.

He loved that girl so much, and she doesn't even understand that she'll never see him again.

_"Don't bury him! No!"_

And Gracia, it must have killed part of her when she found out about his death. I can't even _pretend_ to understand her pain.

He loved her too, he loved both of them to no end, never shut up about those two; I should know.

But what I hate most of all is how people tiptoe around his memory.

They act like he was flawless, like he could do no wrong. They act like he was brilliant, a martyr, a genius, like he was a perfect person.

But he wasn't, and that was what made him so damn likeable. He had his bad points, and he didn't hesitate to agree with us when we pointed them out.

We would say,

'You're an annoying idiot.'

And he would reply with a grin and say,

'I know.'

And now, everyone would say,

'He was a great man. Always there to help.'

He can't respond to anything anymore.

And sure, he was a little bit of those, but no-one would point out something like that. Neither would he have.

I can't remember him as he was anymore, I can't speak about him like the fool he was, I can't think of him as a friend.

He's some kind of glorified hero now.

The man I knew wasn't like that, he wasn't the type of person to even _pretend_ like he was perfect, nothing like that.

He was a fool, that's how I knew him, and I'm not going to taint his memory with words like 'hero' or 'brilliant', no matter _how_ much he deserves them.

When he was here, I could have went up to him and he would have talked to me as a normal person, and we could have insulted, annoyed, shouted and laughed.

He used to be _our_ guy, that person who we knew and went to talk to, that no-one else really cared about. To everyone else, he was just another soldier, albeit an odd one.

But now, he's _everyone's_ guy, and they all knew him, and us, his close friends, we're just more faces in a crowd of mourners.

It feels like I don't know him anymore. It feels like he's so far out of my reach...

...and he is.

He's gone.

And I can't do anything at all.

_Ineffective. Insignificant. Hopeless. Dead weight. A wet match. Helpless. USELESS. Always, _always, _USELESS._

I was useless... _I can't do anything._

I couldn't when it happened, I can't now, and I'll never be able to do anything now except try and keep alive my memory of him as he really was;

My best friend.

To anyone that knew him well, he wasn't Brigadier General, or a hero, or exceptional, or even 'a great person' or whatever.

He was Hughes, _Maes Hughes_, and he was weird, to the point it wasn't even funny, he was one of a kind, and special in so many ways it probably wasn't _healthy_.

And most of all, he was just a fool obsessed with his family and friends.

_"We should go. Looks like it's going to rain."_

_"But sir, there's not a cloud in-"_

_"Yes. This is rain."_

_"...Yes, sir."_

* * *

**Sorry for depressing you all. It's okay! Next chapter is Royai! And it's somewhat humorous! Before I go, here's a small extra; it's a story my little sis wrote! XD YAY! She's not that old, so she doesn't have an account, but she wanted me to put this up somewhere. Please leave her a review as well as me. (If you flame her I will hunt you down and kill you.)**

* * *

**Farewell, Old Friend**

Maes Hughes was the one who was always there for Roy, always.

Always the one to bring joy to boring work hours in the office, always the one to push Roy forward and give him confidence...yet here he was, standing in front of a gravestone with the name Maes Hughes engraved on it.

"You...y-y...you idiot... You were supposed to b-b-b-be there for m-m-me and help me become Fuhrer," Roy half-stuttered, half-admitted.

"Sir," came the voice of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. "Sir, we should be going."

She waited a moment and then walked off down the hill and waited for her superior officer.

"You idiot." And with that Mustang left.

Roy never really understood the phrase; listen to your heart.

Now he listened, but it only called out for one thing, and one thing only; Maes Hughes.

THE END


	4. The Tragic Tale

**The Tragic Story of Princess Riza and Sir Roy, by Roy Mustang**

_Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess named Riza Hawkeye. She was locked in a faraway castle and couldn't escape._

_She was locked away in a castle because she was so beautiful that the king did not want anyone to have her._

_Also, the king had created a horrible beast called the 'FRATERNISATION LAW', that guarded the castle that was the princess' prison._

_One day, a handsome, muscled, suave prince learned of her predicament and came running to her aide._

_His name was Roy Mustang._

_He rode his horse (which was NOT a Mustang) for many days and many nights to reach the fair maiden, braving such ferocious challenges as the evil witch Scar, the great and formidable Paperwork Mountains, the smoky dragon Havoc, Hughes the Annoying, and the almighty Fullmetal the Temperamental Pipsqueak!_

_At long last, he reached the caste, and scaled the walls with skill and precision, and climbed into the princess' bedroom through the window._

_But alas; he was too late._

_The Princess Riza had already been rescued by a tall, mysterious stranger in a mask, who had reached up and opened the door for the lovely maiden._

_The two rode off into the sunset, laughing and-_

* * *

"Sir, what exactly are you doing?"

Roy glanced up from the notepad on his desk at the young woman on the other side of the room.

"Well, Lieutenant, I'm writing a story."

"I see."

The noise of Roy's pencil scratching at the paper continued through the brief silence that followed.

"And you've-"

"Yep, already finished my paperwork."

"Good."

_Scritch, scritch, scritch._

"What are you writing about then?"

"Nothing, really. I'm just bored and I want to do something, so I'm writing a stupid little story."

Riza raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but remained silent nonetheless. "Okay, then."

Roy set his pencil down a moment later, proclaiming, "There. It's done."

"Can I read it?" Riza asked.

Roy considered her question. He spoke thoughtfully. "It's probably best that you don't. I mean, it's the figment of an incredibly intelligent alchemist's bored mind. It's insane, and I wouldn't recommend it."

Riza strode over and picked up the notepad anyway, flicking through it.

"L-Lieutenant!" Roy exclaimed. "I said..."

Riza held up a hand for silence, walking away with the book. She stood on the other side of the room, glancing up at her superior on occasion.

Roy sighed and sat back down, placing his chin on the table. He watched the woman through pitifully mournful eyes, his face red with embarrassment.

"Lieutenant... Give it back... It's mine... Stop reading it..." he protested feebly, waving his fingers on occasion.

Riza finished with the book eventually, and walked over to place it back on the colonel's desk.

"You're right," she said. "It is a stupid little story. That's because it could use a much better ending."

Roy cocked his head. "Wh-what...?"

"Here." Riza took the pencil Roy had been using and put a line through the end of the story. "This is how it _should_ go."

Five minutes later, Lieutenant Hawkeye put the pencil down again. She slid the book across the desk to Roy, then left the room for her lunch break. "It's much better now. More like a fairytale is supposed to go."

Roy picked up the booklet.

* * *

_At long last, he reached the caste, and scaled the walls with skill and precision, and climbed into the princess' bedroom through the window._

_The princess looked at him with a surprised expression on her beautiful face and rose to her feet._

_She ran across the room to him and threw her arms around his shoulders, saying, "My prince has arrived to save me from this terrible place! Please, kind sir, take me with you and we will live happily ever after together!"_

_And then the two battled their way out of the castle, thwarting the evil fraternisation law as they went._

_The law didn't die, but roared after them as they went, "You'll never be together as long as I live! And only one with the power of a king can kill me!"_

_Once they were safely outside the castle, the prince and the princess mounted the horse and rode off into the sunset, each one glad to have found their true love._

_"We shall be married," said Prince Roy, smiling and spurring the horse on. "And live happily in a castle with our children."_

_"Yes," agreed Princess Riza. "And I shall help you become the king, and together we will obliterate the evil fraternisation law."_

_And they kissed, riding away towards their destiny, because they were in love._

**_The aforementioned story is completely fictional, and any similarity to real people or events is purely coincidental._**

* * *

Roy put the notebook down and sat back in his chair, blinking. He wondered if Riza had really meant the last line.

Both the one in the story, and the one after it, which was much more important.

* * *

**So, some light Royai humour there... I wrote this in bed when I was bored one weekend morning. Please review, everyone! (P. S., Finished my first ever fanfic; Freezing Cold! Yay!)**

**When someone said Arakawa said that the only reason Roy and Riza aren't married is because of the fraternisation laws, I thought 'I DON'T KNOW WHAT FRATERNISATION MEANS, SO STUFF THAT!' and shipped Royai even more.**


	5. Author Note Thingy

**Hello, fellow fanfiction writers/readers! This is what some may call an 'author's note'. I call it, 'My informing you of something that I have done that you probably need to know chapter thing'.**

**Previously posted in this space was a story entitled 'Pack Animals'. It involves Edward, Riza and Edward being captured by rebels in the north, Roy gravely injured and all of them without weapons or any means of escape. It's Royai and Parental!RoyEd. It was a favourite of mine, a favourite of the readers, and was pretty great overall.**

**It was also over 30,000 words long.**

**Because of it's length and awesomeness, I have decided to re-post it as an individual story.**

**If you want to read it, PLEASE GO RIGHT AHEAD!**

**It is still entitled 'Pack Animals', and all your reviews and feedback for it is forever appreciated. Please go read it!**

**Thanks for your cooperation, everyone! Now you can go read the next chapter.**


	6. Bloodseal

**Title; Bloodseal**

**Gee, that last chapter WAS longer than I thought…**

**Look! Here's a thing I wrote ages ago! It's weird! Read it! :D**

**This is a monologue, I think, spoken by Ed. Enjoy!**

* * *

I remember everything I thought while it happened. Every little word that crossed my mind, right down to the most insignificant detail.

But the one I remember strongest was Alphonse. That's why I was doing it after all. For him. For my little brother.

I remember feeling so afraid, terrified; and what little kid wouldn't be? It hurt so bad, it was unbearable, but I had to.

I'd been thinking of it for a while beforehand, and I'd gone through all possible solutions in my head. But this one was the most reliable, the quickest way to get back on two feet. The _only _way.

It was inevitable; I would have to get auto-mail.

Didn't matter what kind, didn't matter what it looked like, didn't matter how much it cost, didn't matter how much it would hurt.

I just had to get back up. I had to keep going, I had to find some way to get Alphonse back to what he was, there was nothing more to add.

I remember telling Granny what I wanted. I can still hear the words echo in my own ears, and I doubt she's forgotten either.

_"Make me an arm and a leg so I can walk and do things for myself!"_

I was even scared of what was coming when I'd said that. Winry had always told stories about people who came in needing auto-mail, and most of them involved screaming and a lot of pain.

But back to my earlier point; the only way.

So, while I lay there on that bed, Granny and Winry disinfecting that stump of an arm on my shoulder, I thought, _I just have to make it through to the end. Only that far, and then it'll be done. No matter how much it hurts, I can't give up. If I give up, I'm giving up on Al, and everything we've working for, and I'll never be able to help him. I'll never be the brother he deserves._

Granny told me to hang tight, to think of something else, think of the reason I was doing this. So I did.

When the pain started, it was all I could feel. I didn't know where I was, what was going on, or why I felt like this.

_It hurts!_ I thought. _It hurts so much! Why did I do this? Why did I put myself in this position? Why does it hurt so much? Why did I do this? Why did I do this? Why?!_

It was like a million things all happening at once; it felt like I was being burned, stabbed, shot, stung and whipped.

There was a wild pain in my shoulder that burned it's way across my chest, and I can remember it feeling like my lungs were being constricted. I think there was a second when I stopped breathing altogether, out of sheer agony.

There was the pain I felt when I first lost my arm and leg, multiplied by a hundred - no, a _thousand_. It felt like someone was trying to tear me apart from inside, it was that white-hot, stinging pain.

You know how when you graze your knee, it starts heating up and then stings like crazy?

Yeah, well, it was like that, only on a _much_ larger scale.

And then, every so often, a ferocious bolt of cold, ravaging pain shot through my entire body, like lightning. Each one brought tears to my eyes, but I clenched them shut and gritted my teeth against them.

Oh, but it hurt. It hurt _so badly_.

To me, it seemed like the rest of the world had stopped for this, and nothing else existed apart from the pain.

There was one point, I felt sure I was going to die. I was panicked, petrified, and I thought, _I don't want to die! I can't die! Not here, not now! I can't die when we haven't even started, and Al is still…he's still stuck to that armour through a bloodseal! I can't…I DON'T WANNA DIE!_

And then I remembered what Granny had said to me; _The reason you're doing this._

Alphonse. Alphonse was my reason. He's my reason for this. He's why I've done all these things, gone all these places, said all those words.

I put him in that armour. And from that point on, the only thing I needed to do was get him back out. He was the reason for it all.

I don't care what he says, I don't give a damn about myself. If I can get my arm and leg back as well as his body, that'll be a bonus.

And so, during that surgery, through that haze of mindless pain, I kept one thing stuck in my mind.

His smile.

That smile that was so like our mother's, that smile that I almost couldn't stand to be without. I _had_ to get that smile back for him, or die trying.

No matter how much it hurt.

I thought, _I gotta do this. For Al. Just remember that, it's for Al. For Al._

His smile was the one thing I remember strongest, and I think, it might be the reason I was able to get through that surgery. I always felt, strangely enough, that I would have died if I hadn't had that thought in my head. _For Al._

I think, during the surgery, I probably told Granny and Winy a lot of things I didn't really mean to. They just sort of…slipped out.

I probably went on and on about how sorry I was for what had happened to Al, and how everything was my fault. About how my pain was nothing compared to his. About why I needed this. Why _he _needed it. I always remember how much I thought he must hate me for all that had happened.

I didn't deserve to be his older brother. What were older siblings supposed to do? That's right, protect their little brothers and sisters.

Well, I failed pretty nicely in that department, eh?

But it's alright now, because there was that one time…I know he doesn't hate or blame me for it. And yet...I still blame myself.

But I'm getting off topic. Back to the point.

I always had this impression that my soul might have slipped away during all that pain, and I might have been left as a hollow body. That maybe I would end up back in that white place, stuck on the other side of that gate with that glowing being grinning madly at me as I was torn away from the world and my soul was handed to him.

But Al's smile stuck in my head, and I could almost _hear_ his voice telling me to stay put. Telling me that I wasn't allowed to die. Telling me how much I needed to stay, and I tried my hardest to ignore it all, and to keep his face in my head, to listen to that voice.

That was the reason I didn't die; why I could still live on through all of it.

That was the reason I did it all; went through all the pain and all the suffering and everything I had to.

That was the reason I could later go to and tell that it was okay; I was okay, and I was going to fix his body.

That was the reason I can walk now; that I could go through with everything and move towards my goal that would have been impossible before.

That was the reason my soul stayed in my body; like a bloodseal, it kept my soul from being sucked away to the other side and leaving a hollow shell behind.

Alphonse was my bloodseal.

* * *

**Like or hate? (Please note, I'll probably start cultivating mushrooms in a dark damp corner somewhere if you say 'hate'.)**

**Some review responses:**

**lotrprincess - NO DON'T DIE! I'm happy you thought the story was good, but please don't die!**

**BakingBluePotato - Go right ahead! I would be honoured! (Glad you thought it seemed like it could really happen. I worked hard on that element.)**

**Until next time, folks. AND REVIEW, PLEASE!**

**P. S., I would like to know, does anyone else out there ship Maria Ross and Denny Brosh? And if there isn't already a ship name, can I call it 'Bross'? (By the way, a shout out to Toshi-whose-middle-name-is-Denny-or-something-simi lar-that's-just-what-I-heard.)**

**BROSS AWAY! *I think you've probably figured out what I'm doing now***


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